Cold Feet
by Youkilledkenny14
Summary: After Kyle's parents divorce, his world turns upside down. His health deteriorates and his mom loses all faith in him. All he has now is Stan to lean on as his state of mind loses control. Will Stan accept his emotions? Or will he get cold feet?
1. all alone

**Another Style fic :D A bit more angst this time, but I still hope you all like it I'm taking a break from 'I love you Stan Marsh' ^-^**

**Anyway R&R!**

I sat impatiently in the clean waiting room. I never liked waiting rooms, they always caused my anxiety to rile up. My mom sat next to me, her usually tidy red bun now messy and out of place. It was 2.00am, and I had had another panic attack during the night; ever since my mom and dad got divorced, my health had been deteriorating slowly. It wasn't as hard for Ike since he had me, but who did I have to look out for me?

"Kyle Broflovski," the announcer called from the speaker in the corner of the white room, echoing through the empty space. My mom didn't look at me. She just told me to go into the room alone. I didn't want to go alone and even put up a fight, but I knew she wouldn't support me through this. Not even Dad would. I got up and headed into the cramped, dull room the doctor called his office.

"Have a seat," he gestured in his monotone voice, never once looking at me. I had noticed that people recently avoided eye contact with me-strange, huh? I took a seat and twiddled my thumbs nervously. It was like going to the dentist, that unnerving feeling you get in the pit of your stomach.

"So, you can't sleep? Correct?" he mused, taking invisible notes on his board, my eyes following every slight movement he made. I nodded and explained how I was also suffering from depression and was already on pills for that.

"And you suffer from depression?" he carried on, the tone in his voice pissing me off slightly. Why couldn't he show a little sympathy or compassion, something I needed? The doctor soon sent me back home with Mom, telling me to take some sleeping tablets and that it was just probably anxiety. Not that Mom believed that.

The ride home was thick with an awkward aura. Mom never said a word, and tension bloomed around us. I watched the scenery blur past us in the dark, though some street lights were still on. As we arrived home, there were still some crowds of worried people around. They had heard the commotion from the house and gathered. Even Stan was still there. I watched as his face lit up, waiting for us to pull up into the snowy driveway.

"No. You're going inside." She grabbed my arm as I tried to get out of the car to see Stan. I tried to shrug her off but knew that it would upset her more if I couldn't even listen to her anymore. I took one last glance at Stan before heading inside, leaving him to worry until school tomorrow.

When I reached my bedroom, I locked it, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone. I saw my mom talking to the crowd outside, probably asking them to leave. Stan was looking up at me, his eyes wondering. I needed to show him I was okay; I gave him a winning smile and waved at him. Thankfully, he looked a lot less worried and smiled back up at me, soon being dragged off by his angry parents.

I didn't get any sleep that night. Bags under my eyes hung low as I got up for school. I decided that a nice warm shower would help. Taking off my clothes, I stepped into the cubicle and felt the warmth of the steam hit my soft skin. It made me relax and close my eyes as the droplets fell along my skin. I ran a hand through my now wet locks, feeling the curls turn almost straight.

I hadn't realized my state; I was drifting to sleep, loosing my footing and hitting my head hard. That was enough to wake me up for sure.

"Fuck!" I hissed, laying a hand over the spot I had hit. It stung like a bitch, but I kept my composure and finished up my wash. After a few moments, I took a look at the cut that formed on the right side of my forehead, blood trickling down the side of my pale skin.

"IKE! Get up!" I heard my mom screech like a banshee; her moods had really decreased since the break up. Ike's groan was loud as the floorboards creaked, showing signs of him awakening from his pit.

It was colder than usual today. Snowflakes fell delightfully from the sky, the cold air caressing my once warm cheeks with its flames of ice. I enjoyed the snow much more than the sun, maybe because it made me reflect on all the good times. I held a hand out into the air, catching a flake, which soon melted from the heat radiating from my palm-though my hands were freezing.

It was Saturday, and my mom had no clue of my whereabouts. I didn't feel like upsetting her even more. My feet took me straight to Stark's pond; the pond was now a natural ice skating rink which a few couples were using. I took a seat on the park bench, glancing at the pure scenery.

"Hey, Ky." Stan stood above me, his expression vague, eyes glazed over. I had texted him earlier since I didn't get to see him last night, though my body ached was sleep-deprived. I thought he needed an explanation of why I had caused so much havoc last night.

"Hey, Stan," I replied, standing up, only standing a few inches shorter than him. We both stood in silence as the back noises took over our conversations, his pale skin almost blending in with the snow around us. I never really noticed how pale he was before; most jocks at school are tanned and have a glow. But Stan...he was different: he was pale like a sheet of ice.

"I'm so sorry…I-I…" I began, my voice cracking slightly. I had caused too much trouble last night. Anxiety was stupid. Why did I have to be so defective? No wonder no one wanted me. I was a pain. I felt his arms wrap gently around my waist, warming me up with his body heat. My heart began to race, and I could feel my nerves kicking in and anxiety taking over again.

"I'm glad you're okay," He mumbled into the crook of my neck, his breath tickling my creamy skin. His soft raven locks were now entangled with my long fingers, running smoothly through them. His hat had fallen to the ground, already being covered in a thin blanket of snow. We stood in the comfort of our arms for what seemed like hours before we felt enough compassion and emotion for one day.

Stan invited me back to his house for cocoa and a warm bath. As we walked, my hands ran down his clothed arm, needing to feel his energy and comfort. Before I knew it, our fingers were tangled together, locking tightly like when we were younger.

Stan's mom was the only one home, and she greeted me in like her own. "Hey, Stanley...Kyle..." Her warm smile melted my heart; I wished my mom was happy like her.

"I'll make you boys some drinks." Yelling from the kitchen, Stan replied with thanks. My gaze turned to Stan, his bangs almost covering his eyes completely. I missed seeing his bright azure eyes shining. All I saw now was darkness and emotions.

We headed to Stan's bedroom, where I sat on the bed as he ran a bath for me, never saying a word. I could hear the water hitting the porcelain tub, the sound echoing through the rooms. Stan came back into the room once it began to fill, telling me I could go first.

"Stan…Could you pretend…?" I asked, not making much sense right now. He gave me a puzzled look.

"Pretend we were normal…just for a little bit?" I smiled with teeth, trying to show him that I was okay, that it was okay to talk and ask about last night. It was like everyone knew something about myself that I didn't. He hovered over me, pushing me down onto his bed. My heart began to race wildly again.

"Kyle, I can't pretend…" He spoke gently, his face inching closer to mine; I knew what he was doing. He was acting like he was in the past, on the night Stan came around to comfort me when I was going through so much.I never thought too much on it, but I knew we had something. Maybe it would help.

His lips, chapped and dry, were so close to my own. In reach. His lips soon curled into a smile, showing his amazingly straight teeth.

"Please…I just...I need some closure," I groaned, pleading for him to help me for at least one moment, to make me feel at least a little happier. His eyes peered straight into mine, quickly averting to the large cut on my forehead. His hand reached up, fingers running over the raw cut. It hurt like mad and was really deep, but the pain soothed over the awkward silence that loomed between us.

"Fucking hell, Stan…all I want is..." My words were silenced by Stan's lips over mine. I had missed the feeling of his taste, though the first time he tasted like cigarettes and alcohol. I savored his now sweet flavor, my tongue running across his lips. When we parted, some tears rolled down my cheeks, feeling the relief of tension.

"Shit…" Stan cussed and sat up, his hands covering his lips. Did he regret it?

"Stan?" I watched as he walked back into the bathroom, his back tense and his voice muffled. I was a nuisance. Why did I have to get him to kiss me? I'm so selfish…

**So the chapters short because I want to know if people like the start? Do you? Or not? Because I don't want to carry on if it's not liked at all XD**

**Anyway just tell me and I'll update ^-^**

**Edited version punctuation and grammar fixed **


	2. Oblivious

**Hey to all the reviewers and readers, I re did this chapter but it is still short :3 I just don't want to overdo the plot, sorry '^^ Anyway enjoy the new chapter and review. **

Stan lit up a cigarette, its aroma filling my nostrils and making my throat retract into a coughing fit. I waved my hand across the dusty path in the air and gave Stan a look that could kill. "I thought you said you gave up smoking." I stated simply. Neither of us had said a word about the kiss or anything else for the matter.

"I did." His lips opened slightly for the addictive stick of nicotine, inhaling the deathly substance. I had a towel wrapped around my shoulders and waist after coming out of the bath, it was a surprise to see Stan lighting up in his bedroom, his parents just below us.

The conversation seemed to drown out then, its contents becoming thin and withered.

I began to towel dry my hair, the natural red curls bouncing back. I could feel Stan's eyes all over me as he took another drag of his cigarette. "I think we should talk." He exhaled.

"About what?" I began to act oblivious to the situation, I knew what it was about and that we really did need to talk. I just didn't feel ready for that burden yet.

"You know what Kyle." His tone become serious, I felt a hand caress my upper arm gently, Stan's breath on the back of my neck. Even though to most this would be the romantic scene they would hope for, I felt sick, un-easy, shaken. I just couldn't handle the pressure of a relationship or commitment.

We had talked about our feelings over the few months that had gone by, we even clarified that they were just teenage hormones. Still Stan and I still seemed dazed by the fact we were attracted to each other but claimed to be straight.

Stan was now pressed up against my back, feeling his clothing material against my bare pale skin.

"Ky. You're the smart one; you should be the one suggesting to talk." Stan's fingers now grazed over my stomach, my nerves tying my stomach into knots. I winced slightly to the touch and slipped back into his body.

"I can smell it on your breath." I began to digress from the subject as his lips were inches from my neck. I hated it when he acted all touchy feely, I knew that he didn't want me, well that's at least what I thought.

The scenario we were in became a distant memory, a memory of the night we first made out. That one drunken night that complicated my life and sent it spiraling.

"_Just one Ky, please, if not for me then for yourself?" My lips quivered as I brought the bottle towards them, Stan gaping like a fish out of water. _

"_Come on Ky!" He cheered as if in a crowd at a baseball game, was drinking really all that important to him? Well if it meant that much I was certain to try it, mostly to shut him up._

"_Please Stan. Stop being a moron and I'll do it" I traced my tongue across the rim of my lips which were slightly cracked due to the cold whether we had just been partial to. I put the bottle to my lips and let the liquid pass through my dry mouth, melting into the unusual taste of bitter and sweet sensations. In all honesty it was good. _

"_Finally dude. I've been waiting three years for you to do that!" Stan let out a loud sigh of relief as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. I once again took a swig of the alcohol, handing the bottle back to my super best friend, who in turn smiled like he was proud of me._

"Want one?" Stan offered a cancer stick to me, the smell of his own tempting my fingers to grasp it. Fortunately my brain told me otherwise, that was the one aspect I liked about myself. I had self control.

"No, not really" I was oblivious to the fact that Stan had given up on persuading me to talk about reality and that he had taken his place back on the bed, cigarette in hand. He really did smoke too much sometimes, though he said he had 'given up' on the habit.

"What are you doing later?" He asked, stumping the smoke onto his hand and chucking the evidence out of the window. I shook my head and grabbed his burnt hand, he was an idiot sometimes.

"You are a moron." I hissed and examined the small burn on his palm, it looked painful, though he didn't flinch.

"I asked you a question dork." Stan snorted and poked my forehead with his index finger, god damn did that hurt. I lifted my curly bangs and rubbed the reddened spot which began to form.

"What?" Obliviously asking, I decided a quick lecture from his best friend would even him out.

"What are you doing later?" He repeated, his voice rising in pitch slightly.

"Oh. Nothing I guess." Shrugging I headed for his draws, searching for some boxers to wear and other essential clothes. I picked up a t-shirt which had a picture of a dead bird, reading atticus underneath. I guess it would have to do, though it looked a little big.

"Well, do you wanna' come over? We could do some stuff we used to do." A plea was heard in his voice, like he needed me to come over, like he would do anything for me to come over.

"Sure" I smiled, it was false though and Stan could tell, I just wanted to try and be happy. For once at least. I carried on with my search for clothes, which I found soon in the wardrobe; well at least the skinny jeans were in there.

It took me about five minutes to get ready in the bathroom, due to Stan trying to peak whilst I was changing. I had to confront him and tell him to stop once it really got on my last nerve. 'pervert' I thought with a hint of amusement in my mind. Once I had finally finished, I stepped out of the bathroom, my jeans hanging off of my waist. Don't get me wrong, Stan was small, but apparently I was smaller. Typical.

"mmm…Nice ky, nice." Stan spoke, a smile radiating his deliciously white teeth. He was obviously pleased by the way I was dressed, I never really though I suited the skinny jean and shirt look. My mom always thought that I should dress nicely and at least try with my appearance, even if it was lacking.

"Oh by the way, your other clothes are in the dryer" He stated, going back to the comic he had began reading whilst I was preoccupied with changing. For once the atmosphere between us was friendly, like when we were younger. I wanted to suggest something, something we could do to take our minds off of problems. But what?

I sat beside Stan, my pants falling lower than intended, showing the rim of my boxers. I watched as his hand wriggled towards my hip, a single finger taking the elastic and flicking it rough against my bare skin. My facial expression turned into pain for mere moments before I reached down to rub the spot that had just been abused.

"You forced me to do that" Stan tried to hold back the hilarity that sounded in his smug voice, his hands over his mouth to stop a faint fit of laughter from pouring out.

"You are so hilarious Stan Marsh, I will now swoon over your amazing talent for comedy." I snorted with a hint of spite, of course Stan took it over his head and prodded me in the already agonizing spot making me frown in disapproval.

"Stop it." I swatted his hand away, with a cuss in pain. I could still hear his snickers behind the marvel comic of batman he was reading.

"_Stwan-Stan Stany" I slurred and sang as I tried to attain to desired substance we had been drinking all night. He held it above him and shook his head in dismay._

"_Ky- Kylie you are no fun." He giggled like a high school girl taking the bottle and holding it to my lips, ooh so close to them that I could almost taste it. I stuck my tongue out for him, trying to get him to satisfy my need for drink. _

"_Pwease" I gave him my best pet eyes and crawled onto his lap in a state, grasping the bottle neck. His hands ran over my own on the bottle, a sharp sensation travelling through my entire body. It was almost as good as pleasure itself. _

"_Stan. Did yous, you feel that thing?" I mumbled in confusion of the feelings that were just sent through my anatomy. That's when things turned for the worse, or was it for the better…_

My mom wasn't happy when I arrived home unannounced, and with Stan, the 'bad influence' on me. "I told you not to go out Kyle! You are sick remember? Or don't you remember the other night, when I got up at a stupid hour of the morning for you?" She snapped, her hands gripping a dirty dish which she was scrubbing continuously in the same place.

"I'm not sick mom. Can we please not talk about this with company?" I indicated to Stan, who was oblivious to what was happening. She was way too paranoid, but I don't blame her, stuck in this small house in a useless village made up of idiotic morons. It gets to you when you stare at the same four walls every hour of every day, without anyone to stare at them with.

Stan raised a brow, I know why, we still needed to talk. Fuck. Why was everything so complicated right now. "You know what Kyle, next time you need me, you might not be so lucky." She gestures toward me and shook her head, slamming the kitchen door, leaving me and Stan startled by her reaction.

"Mom." My voice cracked lightly, I wiped the dew that formed in the corner of my eyes.

"You okay?" He reached for my hand but I flinched away, too angry for the gentle touch that I didn't deserve. Why did I have to make my mom so unhappy? When I know how unhappy she is already. I'm being selfish again.

"Go home Stan, I'll meet you there later." I cracked a smile slightly, which dropped ultimately when he nodded and turned his back. I sighed in agony, my head hurt like a bitch still from the cut.

"Kyle" I turned my head with a blunt expression on my face, Stan took my chin into his thumb and forefinger, laying a passionate kiss on my cut head. His arms intertwined with my body, holding me tight for mere seconds before letting go and completing my wishes for him to leave.

"Bye Stan." I whispered before heading upstairs to pack my bags, it's not like mom would listen to me if I asked her if I could stay with Stan. I needed to talk to Ike, he could understand mom more than me, I didn't know how her messed up head worked. I just hoped Ike did.

Inhaling a painful gasp of air, I lightly tapped on my brother's door, waiting for an invite. "Come in…" His voice was sinister; I bet he thought I was mom.

"Hey Ike" I whispered as I cracked the door open, being awaited by the hard smell of smoke. The room was like a crypt, the smoke began to convolve with my body, a dry cough escaping my lips.

"I-Ike?" I waved my hand in effort to clear the room so that mom wouldn't have the stale taste of smoke reach her and get Ike into trouble.

"Dude, I told you not to smoke in here!" I entered the room with a motive, to stop Ike from ruining his life. I seized the cigarette from his hand, imitating Stan by stamping it out on my palm, boy did I regret that.

"Fuck! Do you want to ruin your fucking life?" I cussed, opening the curtains to reveal Ike's pale skin which contrasted with his naturally raven colored hair. It reminded me of Stan.

"What do you care." He pulled out a new cigarette and brought it to his lips; I smacked it from his grasp again. He wasn't listening, why didn't anyone listen to me.

"Because, you are my responsibility." I could feel Ike's brow rise, I knew what he was about to say and knew I wouldn't like it one bit. He lifted his hands up to his eyes, red with deprived sleep. 

"Why are you acting like this? Huh?" I sat beside him, an arm wrapping around his childlike shoulder. He needed comfort, if not from his mom, from his older brother. He didn't answer and I knew I wasn't going to get one soon. I was more likely to get fixed that him tell me.

"What's up with mom? Except from the obvious. Obviously." I questioned with a hint of light comedy in my tone. Ike on the other hand didn't find me all that funny; his hand pushed me away from the embrace we were once holding strong. Did I say something to offend or hurt him?

"Are you that oblivious Kyle?" He quickly hurdled himself from the bed and pointed to the door, wanting me to leave. I was confused. I wasn't oblivious to the fact she and dad were divorced, that was what was wrong so why am I having the blame forced down my throat.

"Oblivious? To what? It's not my fault mom and dad broke up." my fists turned white as I clutched my hands into a fist with anger. The room appeared to turn dark as Ike's juvenile arguments drowned out my thoughts.

"You are so selfish…" He muttered beneath his smoke infested breath, if I was being so selfish why Abraham didn't punish me for being an ultimate dick head was beyond me.

"I'm a dick I get it Ike, now I'm going to leave you to wallow in self-pity because your life isn't going according to plan. See ya." With that I slammed the door which almost came off the hinges, right now I did feel like a dick. But I guess I didn't give a shit right now.

"_Stan." I managed to articulate so that Stan could understand, being in our state of drunkenness, he leaned in and pressed his lips against my own, licking them like a friendly naïve puppy. That's when I reacted by opening my own lips and wrapping my arms around his strong neck, oblivious to the bottle we were just holding, it's contents spilling across Stan's mom's refurbished carpet._

"_Ky" He groaned loudly with a giggle, running a hand up my shirt to feel my bare chest which was smooth and hairless, his fingers tickling my skin. I felt a knot tie in my stomach again, like a rope. It felt like I was going to be sick._

"_you taste like sugar and alco-alco-hol" He pulled back from my lips and gave me a goofy grin, one that he would only give me when he was truly in his state of happiness._


End file.
